Silver Thread
by GaleSynch
Summary: AU: I looked into the mirror, knowing full-well that I wasn't supposed to be in this fictional world of Bleach as the son of someone I'd rather not be. [Self-Insert, Male OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

* * *

**Silver Thread**

**Prologue**

by GaleSynch

* * *

My name is Ichiru Yin.

But it wasn't always that way. I remembered a name—Alex Smiths—from a long, almost forgotten life. Alex was my name. Emphasis on the 'was', my name wasn't an English name anymore. Rather, it was a Japanese name.

Both my names didn't have any deep meaning.

Defender of mankind and one thread's silver. Both were meaningless to me, but names were names. They identify you as you. Well, partly, the appearance and personality also define who you are. I never paid attention to those details. They weren't minor or unimportant facts per se, they just blend in seamlessly into everyday life that I never noticed it.

I wondered, briefly, who I was now.

I used to have tan skin, blonde hair and green eyes. I vaguely remember being female. I dimly recall the faces of friends and families and a world far different the streets of this district which, I learned eventually, was named Hokutan and meant, north end. I remember going fanatic over one manga-anime-adapted series that I outgrew.

I gazed into the water that reflected my face, seeing a pale-skinned, blue-eyed, silver-haired boy staring, pursed-lip, back at me.

With a different face and name, am I still the same person as I was ten years ago?

* * *

I drowned.

There was nothing more to say. It was not the epilogue, just the end of an extremely long and weary prelude. Because, inexplicably, I found myself breathing, inhaling through a new pair of lungs again.

Lungs constructed of spiritual particles.

* * *

_I didn't realize I wasn't wholly one person until I was nine._

_Yes, I had brief flashes of people I've never seen and places I've never been to before but I chalked it up to my overactive imagination. As Okaa-san always says, I have too much of an imagination. She snorted when I told her about a world with a four-wheeled moving box._

_It was a car but she said she had never heard such rubbish._

_Another thing about me other than my overactive imagination: I like exploring. Ever since I could walk, I'd never sat still for longer than a minute. I had mapped the shack—or hut—me and my mother live in since I was two. I had memorized the twists and turns in the district since I was eight._

_Okaa-san had always forbade me from going into the forest, said it was too dangerous and Hollows like appearing there._

_At first, I didn't understand what she meant by Hollows. I'd initially assumed Hollow was a code-name for the group of rogues, bandits, gangsters. Inexplicably, even though I've never seen such a creature before in my life, I had the vision of a masked monster, a large hole in its chest._

_My imagination is one of my greatest strength; I can space out for hours and not notice time passing._

_Another thing about me is that I actually need to eat._

_In this place I live in, people never have to eat. Okaa-san needs to occasionally drink water and eat sugar cubes (but that was because she was craving her favorite food) but I need to eat daily, at least three meals a day. Okaa-san tries her best but once I was seven, I started venturing out to look for my own food._

_I didn't want to trouble Okaa-san who had always been frail._

_I'd asked around the old men littering the streets, all in ragged kimono's and hakama's, and found out that Mt. Koifushi in the east had tasty blackberries._

_It was then that my clock started ticking—_

(I tensed, gripping the makeshift weapon—a broom handle—and peered out of the tree, wary. I felt the breeze shifting and before I could truly register what was happening, I jerked, twisted and swung—

A strong, muscled hand stopped the broom handle before it could connect upon its target. I hissed, arms trembling with strain from trying to hold my own against this powerful grip. I raised my head and glared at the blue-eyed man who looked surprised.

"A kid?" He smiled indulgently. "Good reflexes. High spiritual pressure, too. What'cha doing here?"

"What're you doing here?" I spat back. "Shinigami scum." I hated those Shinigami. They were assigned to protect us but all I saw were those despicable fools, armed with a sword and waving it around, lording it over us just because they had the better weapon, threatening us for alcoholic beverages.

He frowned and with ease that insulted me, he shoved me away. My back hit the tree and I grimaced, trying to bite back the yelp of pain. I held the broom steady before me, pretty sure that this bastard could draw his sword and slice me in half.

"What do you have against Shinigami?" he demanded.

"You dare ask?" I snapped. "You threaten and pilfer from us poor souls and you —"

"Since when did Shinigami did that?" The blue-eyed man recoiled, as if I'd struck him. "We do not do that. We protect the Souls living in Seireitei—" I blinked, and cursed softly. Not now, I thought desperately, but the headache came pounding with a vengeance.

It was getting more frequent lately.

"Liar!" I yelled.

"Kaien-dono? What's the matter? Oh— who's he?"

I stared. Azure eyes, black hair, pale skin—black robes, sword at her side.

"Ah, Rukia, I was just trying to interrogate this brat—"

Blinding pain pushed me to my knees.

Memories— seventeen years worth of memory— crashed onto me, as heavy as a hundred stampeding elephants and I screamed.)

—_and my time as Ichiru Yin ended._

* * *

The boy's consciousness that truly existed shattered as I, Alex, took over once more.

His nine years worth of memory crashed onto me, forcing me to my knees; I clapped my hands over my ears to block out the shouting, squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block the wave of memories.

I had only this moment to cope with nine years worth of memory.

A firm hand fell on my shoulder. I jerked. Blue eyes—Shiba Kaien, a dead man—and black hair— I screamed louder. "Get away!"

"Whoa, whoa, kid! Stop! I'm not going to hurt you— kid!" yelled the Shinigami, trying to grasp my shoulder.

"I said—GET AWAY!" He reeled back in shock as waves of fury rolled off me, as if electrocuted.

(Impossible)

I sprang to my feet, turned and ran down the hill. I barreled past branches, gnarled roots and trees, ignoring the stray branches that caught my hair and skin, leaves that braided in my white hair.

White hair? No. I've never had silver or white hair, my hair's golden—

I stumbled down the grassy hill, only slightly winded; my eyes were wide as I took in the sight of the dirty and dusty path. No gravel, no roads, no cars—not even carriages! I took off, bare feet slapping the dusty earth, down the street, ignoring someone shouting, "Yin! Yin!" because that wasn't my name.

_But it is_, insisted a faint voice.

I shoved the noise back into the recess of my mind and kept running. Abruptly, I skidded to a halt in front of a shack. I didn't know why I'd stopped. My mind screamed at me to keep running but the body recognized this place; this is home, I should stop and say hello to Okaa-san.

My head ached, splitting with a headache— two consciousness, two persons' worth of memories warring against one another for control.

I'm Alex— no, no, no, I'm Yin—

"Yin?" A woman, pretty and pale, with long golden hair that seemed to have lost its sheen and navy blue eyes had suddenly appeared; she peered at me with unconcealed concern. "Yin, what's wrong? Did you encounter something?"

I fell to my knees.

(This isn't happening...)

I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

**[]**

* * *

This prologue is narrated in two persons' pov; Yin (OC) and Alex (SI)

Published/Updated: 19/7/2014

Status: Un-beta-ed.

**Question:** Can anyone pick the hint about Yin?

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

* * *

**Silver Thread**

**Chapter 1**

by GaleSynch

* * *

It took me awhile to calm down. And by then, the woman—Okaa-san—had guided me into the shack. The place where I'd lived in for almost ten years. What sort of sick joke was this? Was I an experiment, memories wiped and brain taken from the body and implanted into another?

Or—worse—I was a fake. A body with the memories of another and thus, was not but a copy of this Alex Smiths. No, I doubt Alex was important enough to be used as an experiment— and what of Yin?

I curled up further tighter into a ball, ignoring the woman's concerned gaze on me.

"Yin, what's wrong?" she asked again.

Deciding to give her an answer just to shut her up so I could think more properly, I croaked, "Shinigami."

"What?" Her eyes were wide. "A-are you hurt? How did he look like?"

"Black hair," I mumbled. "Blue eyes." The woman blinked and her shoulders slumped, the light of hope in her eyes dimming, making her eyes seem dull. "He didn't hurt me... I was just... scared—because of those guys that come here every week—" I broke off, trying to suppress Yin's voice.

Perhaps it had been a bad thing that I had been suppressed by Yin's temporary consciousness for nine years. As an infant, I would have a lot of time to cope. Now? Could I just sit here and try to accept the nine years spent in this supposedly fictional world? How long will it take before it finally sunk in?

How did this happen?

I'd drowned, I was supposed to die. Not come here, in this fake world. And, of all fictional series, I had to be chucked into a place that would become a war-zone in no time.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to imagine the horror of wars. No, calm down, I chided myself. Shiba Kaien was still alive, that meant that I was very far away from the original timeline. I hunched in on myself, wondering desperately what I should do.

I didn't move from that position and ignored the woman; I only stopped imitating a statue when my stomach let out a loud and long growl. I moved to clutch it, glancing at the woman to see her reaction. She looked upset. "You didn't harvest anything from Mt. Koifushi?"

Ah, right. Yin had been there for that exact reason. Who knew that a simple scavenge for food would result in death?

Is Yin dead?

I pondered this for a few minutes before stopping, deciding to spar myself the trouble of wracking my brain for answers to an impossible question.

"...No," I muttered, aware that I was speaking in another different language. It was probably Japanese. Earlier, I had been muttering to myself in English and the woman expressed concerned bafflement. "I'm hungry." The woman blinked and I amended, speaking in Japanese once more, "I'm hungry."

Pity clouded her eyes. "I'm sorry, Yin, but I wasn't able to find food today either. Why don't you sleep the hunger away and go back to the mountain tomorrow?"

I nodded.

It was a good thing I was worn out by shock or I would've stayed up all night, tortured by hunger.

* * *

I woke at the break of dawn. The woman was still asleep so I was quiet, sneaking out of the shack. It wasn't until after I was in the middle of the street that I realized I was walking, bare-footed. Which startled me at first but I chalked it up to Yin's body becoming accustomed to bare-footed for all of his life.

I grimaced as I thought of Yin's consciousness.

First things first, food.

Once I satiated my hunger, I could start pondering about my current predicament.

Technically, I had never been on this path and I would never have been able to scale as agilely as this body did. Yin's body was fit and agile, quick and light-footed, I made my way into the forest with ease, pushing branches out of the way and ducking beneath shades.

His stamina was also something to marvel at. I estimated about fifteen minutes had passed and while I would've been half-dead for moving so long without rest, Yin's body had no such reaction; a thin sheen of sweat layered this body and I wiped the sweat beading down my brow.

Was it even right to call it 'my' brow? This body wasn't even mine!

I turned, seeing the marks Yin had left during his last visit to this place. I followed it and eventually, after another five minutes, I found the blackberry bush. Even though this wasn't any sort of breakfast I would've liked, my stomach was starting to cave in on itself so I approached, abandoning stealth and reached out to pluck a blackberry—

I twisted, pivoting on the balls of my front foot, and delivered a roundhouse kick out of pure reflex. It was blocked. My eyes widened, alarm creeping in.

It was the Shinigami from before!

His blue eyes were serious, lips pursed, as his forearm was held up, having blocked the attack. "Man, I was so sure I kept my spiritual energy concealed. How did you do it?" He pouted slightly, which surprised me because he was a grown man. I dropped my foot, feeling slightly embarrassed.

I contemplated his question seriously though. I definitely could not have done that. My jaw clenched. "...Instinct," I answered honestly, knowing that it had been a trait ingrained deeply into Yin. "What do you want?" I demanded, wary. I shifted back, abruptly assaulted by Yin's memories of Shinigami's.

"Did I spook you last night?" His face had became more sympathetic. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware the Souls were afraid of us."

"You always threaten us and blackmail us for alcohol," I said, Yin's memories flitting through. "I'm surprised you're apologizing." I didn't know who was speaking anymore: Yin or me.

"I'll look into it," he promised, offering me a hesitant smile. "My name's Shiba Kaien. What's yours?"

"...I'm Al—Yin. Ichiru Yin." Names like Alex definitely wasn't normal. Yin was more normal. In this world anyway.

"Well, Yin-chan—" I bristled. Wasn't that suffix for girls? Wait, wasn't I a girl? Or a boy. But Yin was a boy! I lost my opportunity to protest about that suffix as Kaien went on, "Are you hungry?" My stomach, as if possessing a mind of its own, growled loudly.

Unashamedly, I said, "Yes."

"Here," He handed a wrapped bundle to me. "My wife prepared this bento." I had already snatched the bento from him by the time Kaien finished his sentence. It was awkward, holding a pair of chopsticks, something I rarely ever did before. Kaien laughed, not mean-spiritedly, as he taught me how to use it.

My movements were jerky and awkward but I didn't care as long as my stomach was satisfied. My mouth was full so I couldn't answer to what Kaien had to say.

"I come here every morning to train myself... I like the new recruits and I like helping them but sometimes, I want to train myself or have the chance to talk to my Zanpakuto. Ah, do you know what that is? It's this sword— whoa! Don't flinch, it's okay! I'm not going to harm you—I told you, my job is to protect you and the other souls."

I bristled, swallowing, staring at him balefully. "Don't scare me like that..."

Kaien arched a brow. "You swung a broom at me, looking ready to kill— I'm surprised as heck, too, ya know? How did you learn to do that? It's like you can see the future or something!"

I snorted. See it? Not really. Know it? Somewhat.

"You're going to die someday," I told him, tone not particularly sinister but I was irked by the happy smile curving his lips. I want to see if he can smile if he was in my shoes.

Kaien just ruffled my hair. "Keep saying that kid, I know you like me."

Never mind the fact that we only knew one another for about fifteen minutes. I didn't know weirdos like him existed anymore.

* * *

It had to be sometime in noon that I wandered back to Yin's house.

The woman was there, I wondered if she had a job. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. Now that I was calmer, I noticed that she was pretty and slender in build with an oval face; she had very bright, large emerald eyes and her wavy hair was a unique shade of deep blue, tied in a low ponytail. She beamed at me, her smile not entirely making the weariness in her eyes.

I hesitated before deciding to sit in front of her. I didn't know how to react to her. _'Sorry but I'm not your son, miss, but can I please stay here?'_ wouldn't have gone well.

She was eyeing me curiously, as if waiting for me to speak. Deciding to break the silence, I fixed my gaze on her, whatever I intended to say ("Um, good afternoon.") faded when I saw the purplish bruise on her neck. I squinted, starting to feel sick. "Is that a... _hickey_?"

I thought Yin didn't have a dad!

In fact, I looked around the house. There was no indication a male other than Yin lived here.

"What're you saying? Yin, what's that sound you're making? It's as if you're talking in a different language." Her brows were furrowed.

Right. I hadn't noticed that. I suppose since hickey wasn't in Yin's Japanese vocabulary, I couldn't speak it. So I just pointed at her neck, feeling my cheeks heating up. Sheesh. Talk about awkward.

She paled instantly and moved to cover it.

"I'm fine with it," I told her, trying to ease the worry and fear I saw in her eyes. Was she afraid of rejection? That Yin would not take it too well? "If you have a boyfriend, I mean..."

She looked mildly ill, but she gave a nervous laugh. "No, no, Yin, I'm not in any relationship... the only man I ever loved was your father..."

Right. I looked at my lap because I had nowhere to look and I couldn't bring myself to look at the woman. "So... um, what sort of person was he?" She was obviously waiting for a response because she wanted to talk to me. I supposed it was normal to want to talk to your son.

"You look just like him," she mused, eyes lighting up. "The same hair and eyes—though the shape of your eyes are like mine and your build isn't like him... he's very tall and thin—" This elusive dad was starting to sound like a skeleton to me. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes or empty sockets—she was guessing he didn't have eyes because he never opened them.

The description didn't strike me as familiar. And what little information he gave her ("He was an important and powerful man, so he couldn't have stayed...") didn't help and I couldn't find it in myself to believe her. It was obviously nothing more than a one-night stand and no matter how long she'd wait, he wouldn't come back.

Compared to the odds and ends the rest of the residents of the district were wearing, the woman (I didn't know her name) wore a white kimono with pale blue linings, rather fancy too I might add and obviously did not come from the district. She had one other kimono, a navy blue one, but she had used it to make Yin's current attire.

So I suppose Yin's dad was somewhat rich (he gave her the kimono's).

After the awkward silence that lingered for far too long, Yin's mother started talking about the weather.

Speaking in Japanese was odd, writing was even weirder. Somehow, Yin's mother knew how to read and write so she taught Yin (me) even though we didn't have papers and pencils, we used a branch to write on the dusty ground.

This sucks.

* * *

After that single meeting, I went to meet Kaien (and occasionally, Rukia) at Mt. Koifushi everyday. Kaien wasn't lying when he said he always went there to meditate and train himself. After one whole week of pestering and begging, Kaien had finally agreed to teach me hand-to-hand combat or Hakuda if you prefer.

Yin's body was easy to move in. He was light and fast— and seemed to possess marginal knowledge about martial arts. Being a street-rat must've honed his skills. From Yin's remaining memories, I remembered dimly a boy wearing a Shin'o Academy uniform showing up, laughing as he taught Yin.

Just a few weeks ago, he'd stopped showing up in the Rukongai district so Yin had not learned anything new.

I was awkward and stiff at first but under Kaien's guidance, I allowed Yin's experience born from years of fighting for food (with storekeepers mostly or older kids who wanted to steal his share of food) to take over.

Kaien trained Rukia in the evenings and I often crashed it.

"Some no mai, Tsukishiro —" As Rukia punctured the ground with the tip of her sword, I poked Kaien in the ribs for his attention.

"Yeah?" He kept his eyes on Rukia, not meeting my eyes. "What's it?"

"Wouldn't an enemy take advantage of that?" I was talking to Kaien but Rukia heard me as she interrupted herself to face me.

"What do you mean?" Even Kaien had shifted his eyes to me.

"It's easy to interrupt, that's what I mean," I answered. "While you're prepping for the technique, a super-fast enemy can interrupt you—"

"Well, then Rukia's enemy is not honorable," Kaien interjected, crossing his arms. "Keeping going, Rukia, you can do it!" Casting me an uncertain look, Rukia did as told.

"If I was the enemy, I would've used Hoho to interrupt her and send her flying," I told Kaien. "Is that bad? I thought battles are all about life and death situations."

Kaien stared at me. "You really sho_u_ld be a Shinigami. The next entrance exam is in four months. Can you control your Reiatsu?" I blinked and Kaien took that as a negative. "Sit down and concentrate."

"Concentrate on what?" I asked as I sat beside him.

"It'd come naturally."

Who said Shiba Kaien was a good teacher anyway?

* * *

I learned a couple of interesting things about being a Soul from Kaien.

We didn't need to remove our waste. At first, I assumed that was because those Souls didn't eat or drink so they did not need to remove crap or pee. I ate but I didn't need to go to the toilet either so I asked Kaien after noticing it on the fourth day. Turns out that food in Soul Society was made entirely out of spiritual particles so when we consume it, it immediately turned into spiritual energy within our bodies, keeping us sustained.

It was nice, a comforting thought. That meant that I did not need to learn how to use a male's... eugh. Moving on.

The reason why I kept going back to see Kaien and Rukia was simple: training and working out with them, pushing my body to its limits, took my mind off things I would rather not think about.

Home. Planet Earth. Where stuff like these were imagination and science was the real thing governing the world instead of bored geniuses, masked sword-wielders, bow-wielding winged-freaks.

(What sort of name was Yhwach anyway? Sounds like yacht.)

It was wishful thinking to hope that by going back into the Human world, I would be able to go back to my country and find my family.

I sighed; got to give up the fantasy, pronto.

I knew I was worrying Yin's mother, but I had too much to think about than to care about her. In the same routine, the months passed. Training, playing and generally hanging out with the two older Shinigami's were actually fun.

It was funny, however, how tragedy liked me so.

* * *

Two weeks before I was supposed to take the Entrance Exam, Shiba Kaien died.

It was Rukia, face blank of emotion, that told me the news. In a horrible, hollow and croaky voice, she wrapped up her announcement, "So— so I don't think you have the need to come here anymore."

I gazed at her steadily, trying to ignore how my heart felt like it had dropped ten feet into the earth. "I see," I said, voice not betraying the turmoil of emotions I was feeling. "What about you?"

"I'm not going to be coming here anymore either," Rukia's voice was like a series of blocks that was slowly being removed; her voice thick, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears, she was the embodiment of regret.

"No," I said slowly. "I was wondering how you were faring. After all, you killed him—"

Rukia stared blankly at me. "How did you know?" she asked.

I blinked, I was totally busted. Damn it, she said nothing about how Kaien died. I forced my lips into a bitter smile. "That's my secret to keep, Rukia."

"Do you bla—"

"You did what you had to do," I cut in, feeling like this was dragging on for too long. "Kaien would've been proud of you. He loved the Shinigami, he told us that countless times, and if he was the threat because he was possessed, he would've—he was definitely happy that you stopped him."

That broke the dam.

Rukia sobbed, shoulders shaking as she fell to the ground, arms eventually coming up to wrap herself.

I didn't think she noticed when I left.

* * *

Looking back on it, Kaien's death was much harder to get over than the death of Yin's mother. Firstly, I did not spend much time with her, what with training and scavenging for food in Mt. Koifushi, so I had no particular attachment to her other than well-concealed pity. Secondly, she was not my mother. I had nothing to lose.

We had a cheap funeral; the neighbors were kind enough to help me dig a grave for her. We buried her but no one sent her off, they just lumbered off after patting my head or shoulder and telling me to stay strong.

I could remember her last words, it resounded even now, hours after her death.

"You look... so much like your father, Yin... he was a Shinigami, too, but he was different from them... he was kind and nice, he saved me from them... I named you after him—Ichiru Yin."

I could see it in her eyes: how she was so completely enamored with Yin's father even though he had never came back. "He was an important man," said the woman. "He had no choice, I wouldn't have been good to his reputation."

Out of pity, I did not snort in disbelief. Instead, guilt washed over me, summoning the times I had brushed her off coldly. It wasn't her fault, she didn't know. "I'm sorry," I murmured, sighing.

I did not believe 90% of what she had to say about Yin's father. I was going to find him anyway.

Even if it was out of curiosity.

I was going to be a Shinigami.

* * *

"Yin-kun! Yin-kun!"

I stopped, blinked and turned to see who had addressed me. It was an old man; I decided to approach him since he was limping, a grimace of pain on his face as he hobbled towards me as fast as possible. Since they're dead, I wondered why they were still in pain.

"Oh, you," I said, trying to remember who he was. "Um— Fujisaki-san, right?"

The old man mustered a pained grin my way; his watery blue eyes seemed sad. "Ye reminded me of meh son," he croaked throatily. "Left an' never came back." Oh yes, his son that taught Yin Hakuda and never came back. I shrugged, not knowing what to say. "Here," the old man said, once he'd managed to gather himself and handed me...

My brows rose. It was a tanto. "The Shinigami in training are granted blades—"

Fujisaki laughed wheezily. "No, no. It can cut, yes, but it's a gift. I was going ter give this ter meh son but since he's stopped visiting..." A painful smile and I felt a momentary stab of hatred for this man's son. "...can ya give it ter him?" I nodded. "If he doesn't want it, ya can keep it."

I took the tanto, nodding. "Okay," I said, doubting I would ever give this tanto to its intended recipient.

I met with the guard that guarded the Gate. There were five others who were trying out for the Shin'o Academy. They were all nervous and so was I. I didn't remember being this anxious in a long while.

The entrance exam was pretty simple. But the journey there was not. We were dressed in ragged kimono and lining up with people coming from Seireitei—from different noble families and ordinary commoners from Seireitei, we _did_ look like beggars. Goosebumps rose on my skin, I was easily the youngest and smallest among them, and their sneers and snickers weren't helping my nerves.

Subconsciously, I glared at everything and everyone.

There were about three hundred or so candidates but the examiner told us only about one hundred would pass. I was candidate No. 133 so I had to wait a long while for my turn. So far, only thirty had qualified. One of the boys with me had been kicked out already, face red, and the nobles' laughter ringing in his ears.

"You won't be long," hissed the noble boy from behind me, giving me a rough shove, sneering. I only came up to his waist—I scowled heavily. "And what's with that tanto?"

"It's a gift." I didn't know why I was bothering to answer really.

The bastard barked a derisive laugh, drawing people's attention. "Planning on bribing them when they won't let you in?"

"It's a gift for an older boy who used to live in the district," I replied heatedly, feeling my cheeks heating up, hearing the whispers. "He came here and never visited. His dad asked me for help."

He scowled but before he could comment, my number was called. It was a good thing my skin was already pale or the bastard would've made another derisive comment for blanching. "Good luck, Beggar Boy."

I glared. "I don't need luck, I trained, Idiot Boy."

The test itself was simple, I was able to summon reiatsu. I wasn't quite good at forming shapes with my reiatsu like Kaien was able to do—his was a fierce lion. But it was definitely taking shape: could only see slits and a wide grin though. It didn't look remotely cheerful or friendly, just plain creepy.

I waited in the next room for the test to finish up—everyone gathered here before we were divided into groups to be send to our dorms. Much to my chagrin, the bastard who queued up behind me passed with spectacular results. His name was Kirishima Tsubaki or something.

This year, I noticed that there were very few originating from the Rukongai. There were three of us streetrats, including me: Hino Kanon from the same district as I and another boy, Tachibana Yami.

* * *

Probably to avoid conflict and bullying, Tachibana and I were roomed together, something that I did not mind even if we were from different districts. Being the nerd I am, I flopped onto my bed after changing and started reading the student handbook.

Tachibana wasn't a talkative boy; he glanced uncertainly at me, fidgeted for a few minutes before doing the same. By the time night fell, I had already memorized my new schedule and the layout of the Academy (yes, it was that huge).

As I'd feared (but expected), the students from Rukongai were the noble students' playthings. I had my hair pulled, a few spitballs, been shoved about a dozen times in the hallways and I hadn't even reached my first class yet!

They only stopped when I brandished the tanto.

Lunch was at the cafeteria but it was an open campus and students were allowed to buy food from stores outside. At first, I'd worried that I needed to pay but fortunately, the higher-ups (Central 46, I'm assuming) figured out that kids from Rukongai were prone to be penniless so our food was for free.

I saw Tachibana's lunch went to the floor when someone shoved him roughly, purposely from behind.

By the way, Central 46's kindness ended there: no second servings, not even when it wasn't your fault you lost your first lunch. I chose to sit in the far back corner, close to the entrance, back to the wall to ensure no one would shove my head into my lunch.

Tachibana was drifting out when I leaped to my feet, seized his wrist and sat him in my previous seat, the remaining quarter of my lunch in front of him.

"You can have it. I've got to get to class, I'm running late."

What can ya say? My stomach's tiny.

And anyway, I really am running late— Crap!

.

* * *

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**Answer to guest reviews:**

G: Thanks for being my first reviewer! XD

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Updated: 25/7/2014

Status: Un-beta'ed.

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**Question:** What did you expect when you clicked on this story?

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	3. Chapter 3

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

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**Silver Thread**

**Chapter 2**

by GaleSynch

* * *

Dropping out of Shin'o Academy was a rare thing, it hadn't happened in about a century, but barely into my third month in Shin'o Academy, Hino Kanon from the same District as me dropped out.

"What happened?" I wondered to no one. A dirty glare from a fellow classmate shut me up and I went back to my meditation. Just a week before, my class—Class #1: special accelerated program—had received our Asauchi while the other classes had to wait for another two months.

Tachibana was in the third class so he was particularly in awe of my Asauchi because he had yet to receive it.

Zanjutsu class was a four-hour session, split in two parts: the instructors teach us how to wield our Asauchi for the first three hours and the remaining time is for us to try and reach our Zanpakuto.

Kirishima Tsubaki, who was also my classmate and nemesis, claimed that he had seen his Zanpakuto in his dream. Which pissed me off because he was way ahead now, I still hadn't heard a whisper or a poke from my Zanpakuto even though I had been carrying it everywhere I went.

The other students kept their swords tied to their obi sash but I always held it in hand, the tanto got the special place in my sash.

I hadn't relaxed for three minutes when my instincts kicked in and I leaned sideways to avoid the crumpled ball of paper. I turned, saw Kirishima and his gang, and flipped them the bird.

Zanjutsu lessons were the toughest and was a class we were required to take for the six-year-curriculum.

(The six-year-curriculum had optional classes, such as learning to read, count and write but this specific class was meant for children from the Rukongai only, the calligraphy class, the ninja-class which teach us how to be a spy, to set up traps and sneak around undetected.

There was also Herbology to teach us how to brew medicine, Home-Ed that teach us the basic necessities to live or Economics but this class was for those with aims to be a businessman once they graduated or they can take up Science class for those interested in becoming a scientist or the sort.)

There were a lot of fighting styles we could learn and we were free to choose. Styles that relied heavily on defense or styles that abandoned defense and pour all into offense; there was also an instructor to teach us how to wield a tanto efficiently.

I couldn't believe I was the only one who was interested in Battojutsu—or Iaijutsu. Why wasn't it popular? You kill the opponent with—or during—the draw of your sword. No need to waste time slashing, parrying, or other stuff like wasting your energy.

The bored instructor was reading a book when I approached him. I stared at him for a few moments and—

I leaped back, barely avoiding the attack. In the blink of an eye, the instructor had stood, his Zanpakuto in its sheath, as if it'd never been drawn at all.

"Hm, this is interesting. It's been awhile since anyone stopped by." He had a deep rumbling voice to match his appearance. He was a thickset man that belied his speed with dark hair and eye—there was a tiny scar jutting out from his eye-patch, his right eye was covered. I wondered how he could aim so well with that handicap. "Kid, do you even _know_ what I teach?"

"A style that ends a fight quickly," I answered promptly.

He chuckled. "Iaijutsu refers to the concept of drawing and striking in a single motion. Iaijutsu techniques often involve drawing the _saya_ back and the sword forward, allowing the wielder to begin and complete the cut faster than would otherwise be possible, generally half to three quarters of a second. And what I just demonstrated is without the use of Hoho. Yes, it's deadly and ends a fight quicker. But are you willing to dedicate yourself to it?" He eyed me, one eye searching, as if trying to drag the secrets out of me.

"So you could've killed me," I grumbled.

He snorted. "Too true," he said, "I was testing your reflexes and I must say— you're good. I don't accept students who have slow reaction."

"Mm-hmm, everyone says that."

"Don't be arrogant." I opened my mouth, about to defend myself, but he continued before I could say anything. "I don't accept students that suck at Hoho because it's important. Kenjutsu is all about dueling ability, Iaijutsu is about how quickly you can kill your opponent. Tell me, kid, what made you come here?"

"I don't have the best stamina or physical strength," I said, carefully, truthfully. "So, to me, winning the fight the quickest way would be my only way to survive."

The instructor leaned forward, eyeing me critically. He was starting to unnerve me. "Even if you have to play dirty?"

My heart thudded. Was this some sort of trick question? The honest would be yes. If there was sand to throw into the opponent's eyes, I would kick it into his eyes and strike him down. But what if he's testing me to see whether I was an honorable person or not?

Er... Shit. This was headache inducing. "Well," I drawled, trying to buy time. "If there's something I learn here that doesn't involve fighting, it's this wise saying: '_Do not seek beauty in battle. Do not seek virtue in death. Do not make the mistake of considering only your own life. If you wish to protect that which you must protect—slice the enemy you must defeat from behind._' Honestly? I think it's sensible."

The instructor smirked. "Heh. Amusing, kid. What's your name?"

"Ichiru Yin." I looked at him.

His eye flickered with an unreadable emotion, he said, "Mamoru."

I waited but he did not give his given name nor did he confirm that Mamoru was his family name. I decided not to pursue it. "So—I should call you Mamoru-sensei?"

Mamoru waved his hand, not caring. "Waza's—practice exercises—start and end with sheathed sword, and hence involve the drawing and sheathing of the sword. Do you like your Asauchi? Do you think it's suitable for you?"

"Like? I guess. Hm, suitable? I'm wondering how I should change its shape."

"Until you find a shape that suits you and allows you to move gracefully, we won't be starting anything."

"Damn."

Like I said, Zanjutsu was hard work.

Kido was all about concentrating and reciting incantations—having Reiryoku as powerful as Yin's helped a lot. Hoho was a piece of cake and the instructor told me that I have a natural aptitude for it, highly likely to make it into the Onmitsukido but he warned me about cockiness and to not make such a mistake in combat. Hakuda was tougher than Hoho and Kido, but I managed anyway.

Yin had extraordinary reflexes that came in handy for dodging attacks. The body moved before the mind could catch on. Yin's eyes were sharp, this body caught the slightest tensing of muscles, and instantly predicted where and how the opponent would move, sending impulses to the brain faster than an average person's. I wondered if all street-rats were like this.

My problem was in the strength and stamina department. So what if I could see the attack coming and dodge it if I can't even move?

My stamina sucked so badly the instructor punished me (he was a former member of Onmitsukido, a scout for recruits) harshly by making me do extra push-ups to build arm strength. I missed lunch and my stomach kept growling when we were in History class—talk about embarrassing.

I sighed, resting my forehead on the ground. My body hurts.

"Oi, Ichiru, a hundred and fifty more push-ups! How dare you rest?"

I groaned but pushed myself up and did as was told.

* * *

Time passed and I thought things were going well for both me and my roommate but, apparently, not.

Even though I returned Tachibana's greeting and shared my lunch with him when he "accidentally" tipped his lunch tray, I didn't pay much attention to him.

That was, of course, until he told he was dropping out.

I dropped my book in surprise. "...Why?" I asked, disbelief in my tone. "You're doing okay, honestly!"

Tachibana smiled, pained. "Erm, I'm guessing you haven't heard yet but I've been kicked back. I'm in the fifth class." There were five classes altogether (since there were very few students this year) so the fifth class was the worse.

I peeled my textbook from my face, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So? Just keep working harder." I knew I wasn't being too convincing or awe-inspiring but this was the best I could do. "It's no reason to dropout."

Tachibana's forced smile dropped. "I'm different from you," he said.

"Stay a little longer," I told him. "I'd tell the teacher about the bullying problems."

"And let them know how much of a loser I am?" he hissed, surprising me with the amount of venomous tone his voice had taken. We stared at one another in stunned disbelief and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. Thanks, I really will appreciate your help."

I made good of my promise the next day, seeking out Tachibana's former form teacher: Saeki-sensei. He was a dull man with pepper-salt hair and glasses, and he wore a permanent frown. "Ano, sensei—can I talk to you? It's about Tachibana Yami."

He adjusted his glasses, hazel eyes as serious as ever. I wondered if he knew how to smile. "What about him?" I didn't like his tone: dismissive and bored, as if Tachibana was unimportant. Which was wrong because as a teacher, the future of the student is important. But I brushed it off.

"He's being bullied and he wants to dropout," I quickly related what Tachibana had told me. "Can you please talk to the noble kids and tell them to stop? I can't do anything alone."

Saeki blinked languidly. "All right," he said loftily. "It is, after all, my duty."

"Thanks," I said.

* * *

I'd always put that thought away, but the truth was, I'm scared of facing reality. Everyone in the special accelerated program had encountered their Zanpakuto and Kirishima had even activated his Shikai!

Good news: I could change my Asauchi's shape into that of a nagamaki.

Bad news: I hadn't received any signs from my Zanpakuto even after nearly nine months in the Shin'o Academy.

Mamoru was nice about it, but from the vague bits I'd dropped, he thought my Zanpakuto spirit was being annoying and was grating on my nerves. He didn't know that I would be grateful even if my Zanpakuto showed up in my dream—or nightmare—to tell me how much he or she hated me.

Or maybe Mamoru knew and he wasn't saying anything about it since the whole Academy knew about it now.

Similarities between this world and the other? Gossiping. The speed at which rumors spread was horrifying. I realized my mistake: I was too easy to read.

My startled expression when everyone but me announced that they had contacted their Zanpakuto spirit had been the big giveaway.

I was starting to understand how Tachibana felt when he was being picked on. Everywhere I went, I could feel the stares, hear their whispers and see their sneers.

What was wrong?

Not for the first time, I wondered if the Asauchi spirit knew I was not someone from this world and refused to work for me. I let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through my silver hair, growing increasingly upset when I saw the clock. It was one in the morning, I had been trying to connect with my Zanpakuto spirit since ten o'clock.

I was tempted to chuck the Asauchi across the room but refrained from doing so in case I upset it more.

As I threw the covers over me, curling up, I wondered what I was lacking and tried to ignore the hurt.

* * *

I raised a hand to suppress my yawn. These few weeks, nearing the end of the semester, I was starting to get less and less sleep.

I couldn't discern what was wrong despite Yin's finely honed instincts. It had to be about three weeks ago, when I sensed a foreign reiatsu in the room Tachibana and I shared. I checked every nook and cranny (paranoid freak I was) but came out with nothing.

That night marked the start of my worsening insomnia problems.

I always felt like there was someone looking at me, making the hairs at the nape of my neck stand up. I clutched my unresponsive Asauchi tighter, knuckles white. Kirishima's sharp laughter whenever he saw me was not helping either.

I gripped the sheathe of my nagamaki tighter, stopped and spun, drawing my blade—

Kirishima was not behind me. My eyes widened. Eh? I thought— I turned, seeing Kirishima and his gang sniggering at me from beside the window. So... no one was behind me?

I was baffled; I swore, there was someone behind me, with strong killing intent.

"Ichiru Yin!" roared a new voice. I jumped, whirling around to see Saeki-sensei. Too late I realized I was holding my blade out, which was breaking the rules since Asauchi's weren't meant to be swung around in the crowded hallways in case damage was done to the people and the surroundings.

"Sensei!" I yelped, sheathing my blade quickly. "This isn't as it looks like—"

"Kirishima-san, what's going on?" Saeki-sensei cut in, interrupting me sharply. Gah! This was unfair! Saeki-sensei thought Kirishima walked on water.

"Ichiru started swinging his sword at us for an innocent question, sensei! We asked if he's making progress with his Zanpakuto but he just snapped and tried to slash me—"

I was startled to see Saeki-sensei when he swiveled his head to look at me; his eyes were unnervingly alight with fury. I took an involuntary step back but it was no use.

I hissed in pain when the teacher wrenched my hair. "What're you doing?" I yelled. "Stop it!" A teacher shouldn't be allowed to do this. "Ow!"

"Hooligans," he spat, face twisted into a scowl. "You lot are the same. If your Zanpakuto isn't responding to you, there is no need to take your anger out on others. Clearly, we know who it is to blame."

My grip on the hilt of my nagamaki tightened even further, I resisted the urge to draw it and slash. "What?" We can actually blame someone if the Zanpakuto refuses to answer to us? I didn't know that.

"You obviously lack what it takes to be a Shinigami." I stared at Saeki-sensei in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the electrifying pain originating from my scalp. "In fact, I cannot see why Central 46 would stop me from taking away your Asauchi."

My throat went dry. "What?" Why was this happening? Saeki-sensei was...? What was he doing? "I— I'm working on it," I argued feebly, wondering why I didn't just stalk away. "There's no reason to take my Asauchi away. There are older students who have failed to connect with their Zanpakuto too—"

"Pah! They, at least, have a vision or dream about them!" He pulled harder. He must've more to add but that was when the window shattered, Saeki hissed in pain, grip loosening and I didn't waste the opportunity: I fled, glancing back just in time to see more pebbles flying in.

I rushed out of the building and into the courtyard, trying to see who had helped me but no one was there.

"Damn it," I cursed. "I've got to get Saeki fired."

* * *

After asking Tachibana, he confirmed that Saeki actively discouraged him from joining. "What's his problem?" I raged.

Tachibana sighed. "It's a good thing he's not teaching me this year."

We were in our second year at the Academy—much to my displeasure. The only good thing was that Kirishima wouldn't be here. He'd graduated in a year and was tacked with the label prodigy. I had to stopped myself from barfing there and then. He excelled in Zanjutsu, never mind that I could've beaten him in Kido, Hakuda and Hoho anytime of the day.

Iaijutsu taught by Mamoru was not meant to be used in playful sparing—which was why I always lost to Kirishima in a kenjutsu spar. Mamoru agreed to take me as an apprentice (which meant, basically, that he could arrange for training outside of schooling hours) as long as I agreed to one condition: never draw the nagamaki unless it was to kill an opponent when I was out of his company

Mamoru was not only a practitioner of Iaijutsu, he also knew other sword styles but since I preferred to use the tanto when the nagamaki wasn't available, he taught me that.

I made a noncommittal grunt, glaring holes into the paper in my hands.

"What's wrong?" asked Tachibana, brows furrowed in concern.

"Nothing," I said tersely. When he kept looking at me, I looked up to scowl at him. "I'm letting you use the bathroom first, aren't you going now?"

"Oh, right. I'll be quick."

I glared at the caption on the paper. _Ichiru Yin, Rejected From The Gotei 13. On the grounds of being incapable of connecting with one's Zanpakuto._

Bloody hell. I gripped the paper so tightly it crumpled. Wasn't Kenpachi Zaraki captain yet?

My eyes prickled. I knew, just knew, that Saeki had something to do with this. After some brief researching in the humongous library, I found that Saeki came from a considerably powerful noble family—not as great as the Kuchiki clan but had enough power and influence—and he was bound to have relatives with influence in the Central 46.

It was stated very clearly in the book that the Saeki family had a seat in the Central 46.

Mamoru, who finally figured out the truth that I couldn't connect with my Zanpakuto despite being in the special accelerated class, chided me for my gloomy air.

"Why didn't you apply for the Onmitsukido or Kido Corps in the first place? They're bound to accept you. There is no need for a skilled Zanpakuto wielder in the Kido Corps." Mamoru meant well, but he had the worst way of comforting someone.

I didn't want to tell Mamoru how much of a coward I am. The reason I didn't apply for either was because Onmitsukido demanded we kill whenever necessary, and Kido Corps just sounded lame. Researching Kido, inventing Kido and opening gates to the Human world—crappy jobs.

Was I expecting anything different?

Of course... I must've seen this coming. The Gotei 13 had no use for someone who didn't know the name of their Zanpakuto's. Once we graduated, we would be automatically assigned to squads but if we were still unable to activate Shikai, we would be unseated officers.

The students of special accelerated class, with the approval of the form teacher, could apply to join one of the three military organization after the end of the their first year.

Kirishima who, quoting Saeki, was bursting with potential was approved and he had graduated. As we would be required to fight Hollows, possessing a Shikai was mandatory for first-year-students seeking to graduate and be inducted into the military.

I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it out the window, not caring who picked it up and saw. Everyone knew I had been rejected already; I was one of the only two students that applied to graduated. It was... humiliating to be rejected. I wanted so badly to skip the first day of school but it was no use, I just had to go to class and pretend nothing was bothering me.

Saeki, loudly, announcing my failure to the whole world had helped spread the news.

Being good with a sword and a style was not going to cut it—it wasn't going to make up for whatever boost the Shikai could possibly give. All that effort... the calluses on my hands, the bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep just because I increased training hours... was going to be for nothing.

I had to spend another five years in this stinking Academy being a laughingstock.

Maybe this time I could apply for the Onmitsukido? The choice wasn't appealing since I'd have that hardcore bitch as my captain but anything beats staying here.

"Ichiru, are you going to bath or not? Because the guy from next door wants to borrow our bathroom." Tachibana had came. I buried my face in my pillow to hide the redness of my eyes.

"Coming," I responded thickly. Crying would do no good, I chided myself.

And I got off the bed.

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Updated: 31/7/2014

Status: Unbeta'ed

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Preview: _Yin meets Gin in the next chapter and it's also narrated from the latter's pov._

**Q:** Have you guys read the latest chapter of Bleach?

**Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

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**Silver Thread**

**Chapter 3**

by GaleSynch

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Aizen liked to check what was new in the Shin'o Academy. It was part of the reason why he held an optional calligraphy class. He knew more than half the students attending the class was more interested in meeting him than actually learning.

He visited often and had established himself as one of the 'nicest, perhaps the nicest' Captain in the Gotei 13. Amusing, really, how easily they could buy into his lie.

Stopping by the offer inspirational speeches endeared him to them. Asking the instructors if there were any interesting ones in the newest batch of students.

It had been mundane for a few decades after Hinamori, Abarai and Kira graduated. After Hitsugaya came and went. No new prodigies or anyone particularly interesting.

"This boy," said Saeki, face bored, "Kirishima is talented." Aizen only knew this man's name because Gin often mentioned this glasses-boy during the latter's days in the Academy—as his favorite victim.

Aizen hummed thoughtfully, lips curved into the ever present and amiable smile he gave to the audience. "I see." Aizen supposed he could draft this one into his division. It was rare to see some children from the nobility being capable of standing on their own two feet when their coddled upbringing often made them weaker than the children from Rukongai. "Is that all? I heard that this year's special accelerated program only has seven students. It won't be a trouble to see all of their profiles."

Boring. Weak. Useless.

Aizen stopped at the fifth file, eyebrows rising. Silver-white hair framed an equally pale face, pretty but undoubtedly boyish, and pale blue eyes. The eyes weren't slits, the shape of the eyes was too different (too large) and the boy lacked any grins, just an apathetic look, eyes distant but troubled. Still, ignoring the eyes and expression, this boy looked exactly like Aizen's loyal subordinate.

He flipped to the front of the file to check the name: Ichiru Yin.

Yin was skilled in everything, exceeding expectations in Kido, Hoho and Hakuda. His Hakuda instructor had sparred with him and had only managed to win because he had more experience in Hoho; little boy was described to have what seemed to be precognitive abilities even though Aizen was sure the instructor was only exaggerating.

The boy had chosen a rare sword-style to master but his instructor had a lot of good things to say about him, too.

Aizen supposed it wouldn't hurt to run a few tests.

Aizen slipped into the boy's room with no effort at all. Aizen let his fingers trail over the pillow, fingers curling around the short silver strands.

Slipping into the 12th Division labs would prove to be more of a challenge than this.

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"Congratulations," said Aizen dryly to Gin who was turning the file upside down, grinning at the picture as if he found this amusing. "It's a boy. How does it feel to be a father?" Never mind the fact that Gin was ten years too late and this announcement was long overdue.

Gin just kept grinning his trademark grin that had unnerved many and turned them against him. Gin hummed. "Wha' do I do 'bout this, taicho?"

Aizen was interested, too. The boy was born in the Rukongai when the residents of Rukongai consisted mostly of dead souls and on the off chance a child was conceived, they often died due to hunger or, without the protection a parent offered, would be killed. Pregnancy was more common in Seireitei, especially among the noble families. "It's up to you," he returned evenly.

Gin hummed, said nothing and left.

Aizen noticed that he was gripping the file tightly, knuckles white.

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Ichiru Yin.

The name kept repeating itself in his mind; Gin didn't need to look at the profile picture anymore. He had memorized every detail of the boy's face. But, looking at a picture of his son was nothing in comparison to really, truly seeing his son in the flesh.

It was late evening, dusk, the sun was setting when he reached the Shin'o Academy. Lady Luck was on his side—or perhaps Lady Fate wanted to torture Gin more—and decided that it was fine to see his son. Gin found the boy in the courtyard, a portion of the Zanjutsu-training section.

He was with a man Gin vaguely recognized as an instructor.

The boy was the youngest and smallest student in Shin'o Academy, being only ten in mind but years of starvation in the Rukongai had stunted his physical growth, he was small and child-like, looking eight than ten.

His Asauchi was gripped tightly in his left hand, knuckles white despite the sun's orange glow cast upon him. His eyes stood out a vivid shard of sky-blue in spite of the sun, his silvery hair was also very noticeable. Despite the sun, there was no mistaking, the flush of his cheeks.

Oh? Had he been complimented?

Gin squinted. No... the boy looked upset, the furrow of his brows, the red of his eyes. He had been crying and the instructor was probably trying to comfort him.

"It takes time, Yin," the man was saying. "Just because your Zanpakuto isn't responding doesn't mean you're useless."

"I'm better than Kirishima but he could manifest his Shikai already," Yin griped. There was a momentary pause as the instructor struggled for something comforting to say. Yin's face softened. "Sorry, I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. I'm just..." He ran a hand through his hair. "...just frustrated."

The man ruffled Yin's silver hair. "Let's call it a day." The man left but Yin stayed rooted to the spot, glaring at the ground.

Gin was wondering what the boy was thinking when his head snapped upwards, eyes narrowed into a fierce glare onto Gin's hiding place. "**Hado No. 33: Sokatsui!**"

Gin dodged.

Yin's hand flew to the hilt of his tanto. He was carrying two blades, Gin noted, which one was his Asauchi?

"What's that ruckus?" a new voice roared.

Yin stiffened, cast an uncertain glance at where Gin was, obviously sensing someone but not seeing who, before he fled.

Gin felt his grin widen. Heh.

.

.

.

If Aizen hadn't thought Yin was something, there would be no need to contact Gin. Seeing his son, learning that Saeki was now an Academy teacher within range of Yin, made something within Gin's chest, where his heart should be, tighten briefly before loosening.

Gin didn't even head to his office. Gin was absent for a few days; he spent most of the day stalking Yin, taking sadistic pleasure in seeing the boy's tenseness. The instructors were right about one thing: Yin was intuitive. Very much so and Gin was starting to wonder if the joking comment about the boy being precognitive was not a joke after all.

Gin observed the boy's every class—unseen, with Aizen's handy Invisibility Cloak. Yin slept through most of the non-practical class not involving the four fighting skills of the Shinigami. Yin had no friends, interacted with no one but his roommate whom he treated curtly and took pity on enough to share his lunch.

Gin didn't know what to make of his (bastard) son burying his nose in a book when that Tachibana boy was being bullied about fifteen feet from where he was sitting. Either Yin didn't really care, didn't notice or he was scared. Gin doubted it was the latter because Yin had no hesitated to start fights in the middle of the hallway that landed him a few consecutive nights in the Repentance Cell.

Despite the observations, Gin still wasn't sure what to do about him. His goal was pretty clear to him; and it was for Ran-chan only. Yin was never part of the plan, Yin was a freak of nature, an obstacle in his path, a hindrance, an unplanned thing.

Perhaps he could kill the boy and be done with it?

Gin's hands rested on the hilt of his Zanpakuto even though he could dimly feel Shinso's disapproval at the murder of his own flesh and blood.

Gin only let slip a tiny amount of killing intent.

He did not expect the boy to whirl around, sword cutting an unseen arc in the air. The windows rattled from the force of his movement.

Hm... interesting.

Inexplicably, the knot tightened in his chest once more when he saw Saeki approaching his son. The moment Saeki whom Gin recalled being classmates with, and one of the many enemies he'd made during his school days, gripped Yin's silver hair and wrenched painfully, Gin felt odd.

There was a ringing in his ears, the pebbles Gin was toying with earlier flew across the distance, shattering the glass and connecting with Saeki's wrist. The force with which he hurled the pebble had been powerful, Gin took vindictive glee when Saeki howled in pain.

Yin fled.

The shower of pebbles stopped only a few seconds after that. Tch. Pathetic, those were the special accelerated class? Gin remembered those in his special accelerated class had been far superior and talented.

He drummed his fingers on the branch, contemplating.

He vanished just as Yin rounded the corner, blue eyes searching.

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.

.

In his whole life, Gin had never expected to be a father.

Firstly, he thought children were nuisances.

Secondly, he couldn't afford to have weak-points when he was on this personal and highly dangerous mission.

Thirdly, he just wasn't the daddy-type, not now, not ever.

Fourth, well, there was no fourth now but it would be soon.

Gin picked up the crumpled paper his son had chucked out the open window, apparently frustrated. His son's reiatsu told Gin how upset he was. Yin must've gotten very used to Gin's stalking presence because he didn't even raise his head when Gin stood just outside his window, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak as he smoothed the paper and read it.

Someone had obviously pulled strings to make sure Yin was not admitted into Gotei 13. Did they know who Kenpachi Zaraki is? Shikai was unimportant if the person in question was skilled in other aspects.

Yin's shoulders were shaking from the force of his sobs, sounds that weren't completely muffled by his pillow.

Gin's grin tightened. He didn't like this, he didn't like it at all.

Saeki. was. going. to. pay.

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.

.

With blood, preferably.

It was a week after Gin had caught his son crying. Aizen allowed Gin to tag along for this week's calligraphy session. Gin grinned creepily at all of the students, not seeing his son, scaring a few into shuffling backwards. The hallway was completely full, nearly all of the Academy students had showed up.

Good. Very few would interfere with Gin then.

Aizen didn't object when Gin flash-stepped away.

Gin timed his appearance very well. Yin was training in the courtyard when Gin chose to make his appearance. When the first tree fell, Yin was already moving, tanto drawn and slashing the branch that would've fell on him. This time, unlike the many times before, Gin did not hide. Yin's eyes widened when he saw him. Gin cocked his head to the side, wondering if Yin knew him.

Well, he was wearing a Captain's haori so he assumed Yin must've known.

"Heh. I know ya," Gin smiled widely, tone cheery, "the boy who applied ta' join da' Gotei 13 but was rejected. Poor thing," he added mockingly. "Because ya lacked certain qualities." A certain quality but Gin wanted to anger the boy so he didn't correct himself.

Yin's face tautened. "Yes," he said, managing to spit out, "sir. If I had achieved my Shikai, I probably would've graduated too."

"Tha's da' problem," drawled Gin, smile never wavering. "Ya' don't have a Shikai. Why? 'S it 'coz ya too weak?" He pretended to squint and leaned in closer. "Hm... looking closely, ya look rather weak for 'da top seat... oh wait, didn'ja get the seat 'coz Kirishima was promoted instantly into da' military?"

Yin scowled. "I assure you," his voice was tightly controlled, barely able to suppress the anger he must've been feeling. "I'm strong even without a Shikai."

"Eh? Why don't ya prove it ta me?" Gin offered Yin a wide grin. "If ya land a hit on me, I'd acknowledge dat but if ya can't, then ya gotta quit tis' Academy completely."

_Stay out of trouble if you're weak, boy. _Gin didn't have any particularly deep attachment to Yin, beyond what the somewhat similar reiatsu, the appearance and the blood that flowed within Yin's body had established. _If you're strong then can you stand by me without being burn?_

Yin's eyes widened in disbelief and bemusement. Gin figured that the boy needed only a small push. "Why? Scared?" Anger flared in those familiar eyes—eyes he saw every time he looked into the mirror. Gin smirked, drawing his blade as Yin who was crouching previously, kicked off the ground and lunged with intent to kill.

Good. Quite good.

Gin easily parried the thrusts and jabs, the kicks and punches, but decided to take it to another level rather quickly. Gin caught Yin's blade and angled his own downwards. One movement and either of them would be cut. "Shoot to kill, Shinso," he said teasingly. His blade glowed briefly and extended, long enough to cut Yin's fingers—his son hissed in pain—and to nail Yin on the spot by impaling his sandals. "See wha' my Shikai can do?"

Yin's eyes flared, obviously insulted.

"Tell me," drawled Gin, not teasing this time. "Whaddya think a Zanpakuto is?"

Yin's anger abated briefly to make way for bemusement. "A tool that's molded by the Shinigami into the ideal weapon," he responded tersely, pushing harder. Gin laughed derisively—but stopped when Yin released his tanto. Yin twisted out of the way, and with neck-breaking speed, drew his nagamaki in a cutting arc, forcing Gin to release Shinso.

Yin was unable to move and before the boy could even try to remove Shinso, Gin flash-stepped to his side, smirked, and delivered a bone-breaking elbow-hit to his son's ribs.

The bones snapped, Gin heard it, along with Yin's cryof pain as Gin removed Shinso, and with effortless ease, disarmed Yin. The nagamaki fell with a clatter to the ground. Gin had the feeling that was the Asauchi given to Yin. His son, seeming to have not much stamina as the instructors had noted, pushed himself to all fours, panting already.

"Ya're wrong," said Gin quietly, jumping away a few feet when Yin tried to kick him. "Ya don't view ya Zanpakuto as a partner at all. Thus, the Zanpakuto won't answer to you either."

Yin's voice was almost too soft to be heard. "…I don't need it." Gin blinked. "It's a bloody idiot!" Yin's voice had risen to a shout. "So what? If I die, it'd die too—then it can ponder about the meaning of its existence as it's fading—if I ever die, it's going to be because I'm being a careless idiot—not because my Zanpakuto refuses to acknowledge me!"

Gin had never heard anyone speak of their Zanpakuto with such vehemence, such hatred. Taken aback, Gin barely brought Shinso—who seemed to be in shock as well—up to parry Yin's strikes. The hatred and rage had erased any pain from hindering him. He had retrieved his nagamaki, slashing, slicing and cutting—breaking every single oath he'd sworn to Mamoru about only drawing his Zanpakuto to kill an opponent.

Gin figured he was the last straw—having had to endure all the taunts and bullies about why he had been rejected from the Gotei 13, how useless he was that even his Zanpakuto refused him—and Yin's anger was turning to murderous killing intent.

"Shut up! Shut up!" screamed Yin even though Gin hadn't said anything.

Parrying the strike, Gin turned briefly but saw no one behind him. Did Aizen cast an illusion upon Yin? In all of his observations, Gin hadn't picked up anything that would identify Yin as a _psycho_. Yin swung his sword, leaving himself wide open with the cut.

Gin planted a harsh kick in Yin's gut, sending him crashing a good ten feet away. "Broken ribs, bruised abdomen and scratched-up arm—_yeeep_, we're done here."

Yin had a surprisingly firm hold on his nagamaki. "It's not over yet!" he cried. "**Hado No. 4: Byakurai**!" Gin deflected the Kido spell—which was revealed to be a mere distraction as Yin appeared even before the smoke had cleared. Gin seized Yin's wrist and twisted, hearing something snapping.

A yell of pain and the nagamki cut through smoke, aiming for Gin's neck. Gin angled his blade, elongating Shinso to catch his son's blade midway. He pushed himself away and slashed, Shinso sliced through fabric and skin, drawing blood from his son's torso to his hip.

Yin pushed himself up anyway, his knuckles were bruised—so was his whole body from being thrown around—and bleeding but his grip on his Asauchi was strong. With a battle cry, he lunged again.

Anger was an amazing thing—when it came to possess Yin anyway. They had been going at it for nearly half-an-hour, drawing many people's attention because of his Captain haori, but Yin didn't seem to care nor did he seem to notice. It didn't matter, Yin chased them all away by firing destructive Kido spells after one another and had stopped the incantation after the third blast—his left arm now hung limply at his side, smoke rising and the skin seemed badly burnt.

His kicks and punches started to lack strength and speed with every passing minute. He was still using Shunpo but was slowing down considerably since Gin could actually see him now when at the start of their battle, Yin was but a shadow and the gust of the wind.

Gin was… impressed.

He had blocked every hit, but Yin's leg had connected—so that counted as a hit to Gin. But Yin seemed to want Gin dead to count it as a proper victory.

"Anything else?" Gin asked, tone ever teasing, rubbing Yin the wrong way.

His son took a step but his knees buckled and he fell forward, limp. Oh boy. Gin hoped he wasn't dead. The nagamaki's hilt was covered in dried blood.

Snickering, Gin approached his son with an amused smile. "Good grief," he muttered as he reached down, about to turn Yin over to inspect the entirety of his wounds.

Yin's body jerked—hand shooting up, fingers curling in Gin's collar and wrenching him down as Yin's left, unbroken, fist flew up. Gin whipped his head to the side to avoid the punch, but didn't quite succeed, Yin's knuckles grazed Gin's cheekbones. Was he unconscious or not? Gin, trying to pry Yin's death-grip off him, flipped his son over.

There was a pool of blood on the ground but Yin's chest was rising and falling, eyes closed, unconscious.

Gin's hand rested on Yin's, the boy's fingers still curled into the fabric of his haori, as if he didn't want to let go.

He smiled, thumb brushing Yin's tense, bony knuckles, enveloping the boy's reiatsu with his own.

.

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* * *

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Updated: 10/8/2014

Status: Unbeta'ed

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**Guest:** True, but to graduate in first year, you need it in this story so it's sort of a big-deal for Yin.

**safranbrod:** The SI and Yin's natures are fighting against one another, internally; the Asauchi can assess Yin's eleven years worth of memory but Alex's personality is also butting in so the Asauchi can't form itself. (The OC) Yin's real attitude will be revealed later.

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**Question:** What sort of Shikai do you expect him to have?


	5. Chapter 5

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

* * *

**Silver Thread**

**Chapter 4**

by GaleSynch

* * *

My whole body ached. I felt as if I'd been run over by a truck. I groaned, shifting slightly, trying to erase the discomfiting ache in my body. As far as I could sense, I wasn't in any immediate danger. I inhaled, taking in the different scents. It was cool and quiet, nothing potentially dangerous here.

So I opened my eyes, giving up the pretense of sleep.

Light blinded me momentarily and I raised my sore hands to cover my eyes. It took me a few minutes to adjust and once I did, I studied my surroundings.

I seem to be in the infirmary, but Shin'o Academy's infirmaries weren't like this, not so grand, the color scheme was also wrong. I knew because I had been there more than once because I had gotten into fights and needed treatment.

Feeling the continuous ache of my body, I glanced down. I was wrapped entirely in bandages, right to the tips of my fingers. I felt my face, feeling bandages around my forehead and a patch bandage on my right cheek.

What surprised me was that I wasn't in my Academy uniform, just a plain white yukata. I grimaced, pushing it back to reveal bandages around my torso. Awesome. What happened?

I wracked my brain, trying to recall something—anything—but all I could remember was blood-red and silver and destruction. I assumed I'd gotten into a fight (_again_) but with whom? The only one I would fight till I was heavily injured was Kirishima and he'd been promoted already to the Gotei 13—

The stinging rejection was a blow to my pride.

The man's taunts rang loud and clear in my ears ("Ya lack certain qualities.") and everything came crashing back. Gah. What had I done? I clutched my head, trying to refrain from banging my head into the wall. Why did I answer to Ichimaru Gin's challenge?

I was actually surprised he hadn't killed me.

Why was he in the Academy in the first place? I was torturing myself with impossible questions when someone came in. I looked up, blinking at the sight of silver-hair framing a pale face. The young woman had dark eyes and a kind smile. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked. "Um, I'm fine. Who're you?" I asked.

"Kotetsu Isane—that's Kotetsu-fukutaicho to you," she said, smile dimming when she came closer and as her eyes fell onto my injuries. She wore the typical Shinigami uniform.

"You're from the Fourth Division, right? Why don't you heal me completely? You can do that, no?"

Kotetsu didn't seem offended by what I was implying; her hand glowed green as she inspected me (I'm assuming). "I would've healed you completely but I received strict orders from Ichimaru-taicho to not heal every wound."

My chest swelled in anger at the thought of the infuriating Captain. "Can I go now?" I demanded. I'd just go back to infirmary.

Isane blinked. "Go where?"

"To the Academy. If it doesn't trouble you, can you give me directions to the Academy? I'm not familiar with Seireitei—"

"Ya won't be goin' back there." I stiffened at the familiar slurring speech. My head snapped up to deliver a venomous glare at the silver-haired man leaning casually against the doorway. How did he sneak up on me? I thought Yin's instincts were infallible! "Don'tcha 'member our bet?"

It took me a while to remember and when I did, my face drained of all color. I couldn't see my Asauchi anywhere, he even confiscated my tanto! The sinking feeling in my stomach could be described as dread but it was probably an understatement. I kept my face blank, fingers curling into fists, not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing me... crying.

"Why don'tcha go back an' pack ya' bags?"

Before I could lash out, Isane interjected, "Ichimaru-taicho, stop teasing him! He looks ready to cry!"

"I thought it was cute—"

Rather bravely in my opinion, Isane turned her back to Ichimaru, pointing at the foot of the bed. "Once you get changed into your shihakusho—"

"Wait, what?" Pain flared as my body protested the abrupt movement; I sat up forcefully, ignoring Isane's warning. She placed her hands on my shoulders, trying to push me back down firmly and gently. I squirmed. "What're you talking about? I thought I was suppose to dropout—"

His haori billowed. I reared back in shock and wariness, so abruptly that the back of my head connected with the hard wall. Oh shit. "Gah..." I clutched my head, feeling a golf-sized bump growing. The bed creaked from the added weight of one annoying captain. Against my will, tears of pain welled up in my eyes as I looked up to glare at him. "Why did you surprise me like that?"

Ichimaru shrugged. "I didn't ask ya' ta' act so scared. 'S good to be aware but ya act like everythin's gonna be a threat ta' ya. Wha's wrong wit' ya? Scare' o' me?"

I pressed my lips into a thin line, refusing to admit that, yes, I was scared of him. Ichimaru's eyes were mere slits, his grin dimmed slightly but his lips were still curved. "Aa? Ya' weren' scared when ya' tried ta' kill me 'ours earlier."

I dropped my gaze, staring at my bandaged arms. "I... apologize for my shameful behavior, Ichimaru-taicho. It won't happen again." I'd prefer to stab you from the back and engaging in a full-out fight. Call it cowardly but I though it would be safer for me to fight in such a way. I moved my hand, grasping my right forearm. The slight pressure aggravated the wound. "Why won't you let Kotetsu-fukutaicho heal me completely?"

"Hm? 'Cos I think ya deserve it," answered Ichimaru promptly, "Ya were reckless, blinded by hate an' anger. I thought it woul' be a good lesson fer ya', let da' pain be a reminder." I shot him a fleeting look of disbelief, unable to believe that he could say something so sensible. Looking back on it, I supposed I deserved it but that didn't mean I had to like it. Surprisingly, Ichimaru turned and grinned at me, pointing at his cheek. "Ya passed, ya know? Yer knuckles graze ma' cheek an' ya kicked meh, too. I didn't think ya'd have the bloodlust to fight even when ya're out. Congratulations," he flipped me a thumbs-up, "ya earned a seat in meh division."

I stared at him in disbelief, heart thudding loudly in my chest. Hope built, but crashed as quickly as it'd came. "I… don't have a Shikai."

"'S okay," drawled Ichimaru with his usual slur, idly plucking a magazine from the rack, skimming it through without reading properly. I ran my gaze around the small room, noticing that Isane had excused herself and feeling mildly panicked. "Ya accomplished sumthin' not many can do even withou' ya Zanpakuto's help. I think ya'd be a good sixth seat."

"But seated officers need—" I fell silent when Ichimaru looked at me. Well, I thought he did anyway. His eyes were indecipherable. "Really? You're serious?"

Ichimaru grinned widely still. "Put on ya Shinigami uniform. I'm gonna wait outside." His hand rose, as if to touch something or wave goodbye, but fell without accomplishing anything. Ignoring my puzzled gaze, he left.

I got dressed rather quickly and in five minutes, I was following Ichimaru (taicho, I suppose) down the hallway, out of the Fourth Division building. "Um, Taicho?"

"Hm?"

"Which division is Kirishima in?"

"Fifth division. Heh. If ya miss him, I can get him transferred into my division—"

I cut in before he could get too carried away. "What's his rank?"

"Seventh, I think."

"YES!" The exclamation slipped out of my mouth before I could check myself.

Ichimaru chuckled at my vindictive glee—it wasn't as horrifying or as malicious I initially assumed it would be. Grinning widely to put his grin to shame, I walked with a slight spring to my step.

Yep. Definitely felt much better than before.

**oOo**

Ichimaru was probably a very lazy person. After showing me the division building and the barracks, he took me on a grand tour of the whole Seireitei, as if he didn't have paperwork to do. I distantly heard his lieutenant screaming for him to come back and finish his work.

"...an' tha's the 10th Division building. 'Da building behind it's their barracks. Divergin' from dis' street's 'da—"

"Taicho, someone's looking at you," I interrupted.

Ichimaru hummed, tilting his head to the side and looked in the direction I was pointing to. Her orange curls falling down her well-endowed chest gave her away. She was resting her head on her palm, gazing off into the distance so I doubted she was looking at us.

Ichimaru wiggled his fingers at her, finally drawing her back to reality. She jerked violently, finally gazing at us. Her mouth fell open. "GIN? Hey! I heard that you have a—"

"Right-o, let's go—" And he hauled me away before I could hear what that pretty lady had to say. I stumbled after him, finding the large difference in height awkward. "Tha's the 11th division, I think ya'd fit right in if ya display the same amount of anger ya did ta' me." I didn't know if he was taunting me but knowing him, he probably was. I shuffled after him, feeling my cheeks heating up. "Wanna go in?" he asked.

"...What for?" I asked, mumbling the words out. Ichimaru took that as an affirmative and sauntered in. I needed to take quick and large steps to keep up with his casual strides. He was _that_ tall. "Are we going to fight?"

"Kenpachi-taicho wanted ta' spar wit' me anyway, ya can hang around 'till I come get ya."

If there was one word to describe the 11th Division, it would be 'chaos', summarizing violence and loudness in a single word. Everyone was running about, swords waving and shouting obscenities at the top of their lungs. "Ooh," I murmured. "I didn't know that could be a swear word..."

Abruptly, I found myself plucked off the ground. I let out a yell of shock, arms windmilling. "Taicho!"

"Oi, everyone from 'da 11th Division—my sixth seat challenged ya'—he said 'dat none of ya can even dream o' beating' him!" Who would believe such outrageous lie when the person in question was a kid looking no older than nine? I was devising a plan to free myself when the whole barrack roared in outrage.

("Yer little brat! Who the heck do you think you are?!"

"You dare challenge the strongest squad in Seireitei?!"

"Someone ought to teach that kid a lesson!"

"Any'd mind if I rip the brat a new hole?")

I shrunk back. What sort of idiots resided here to be fooled by that lie?

But Ichimaru was having none of it, he seized my collar and tossed me at the crowd, waving merrily. I somersaulted, flailed, and planted my right foot on a man's face, my left leg was kicking up a moment later, sending him flying into his comrade behind. He was probably an unseated officer.

I winced. I would've felt more confident if I'd been in tip-top shape. They were charging with their Zanpakuto drawn but no Shikai so I drew my tanto. The nagamaki in its saya wasn't used, but I did swing it, sheathed, and bashed a few heads and tripped a few guys.

What were the numbers of an average division? About four hundred, I think.

My tanto clashed angrily with a taller Shinigami's but before I could jump away and let him trip from overbalancing, a familiar (and annoying) voice cut through the fight. "Time out, give Yin fi'e." Ichimaru snagged my collar and hauled me out of the chaos without waiting for an answer. He placed me on the ground, smiling at me in a sardonic way. "Ya don't know how'ta disarm people properly, don'tcha?"

I blinked. "...Hit them hard enough till they drop their swords?"

"No, chibi," My eyebrow twitched in annoyance but he paid no heed. He, instead, drew his sword. I eyed it warily, well-aware that it had left more than a scar on my body—possibly permanently. "Ya hit the hilt of their sword, like this," I tensed when Ichimaru's blade got too close to comfort, a few centimeters from my fingers and he twisted, I released my hands instinctively before Shinso could bloody me further. "Right-o, where their fingers're so it causes them pain—or to help them 'void it by makin' them drop it—then ya twist it, cuttin' both hands if they're holding wit' two hands—humans're mortally 'fraid o' pain, whether they like'ta admit or no'."

I nodded to show that I was listening.

"Now go cut them up."

In my world, there would be no adult telling kids to go cut people up, grinning and patting the kid's head as they did so.

I went and did as told anyway.

**oOo**

I saw a lot of Ichimaru-taicho for the rest of the year. Actually, a correct way to phrase it would be, I saw very little of an Ichimaru-Gin-less world—I doubted this was healthy for me. But it would be too rude to shake him off when I couldn't even offer a proper explanation as to why I didn't want him near.

Couldn't possibly tell him that I knew he was a freaky murderer, right? Even if he was doing it for Rangiku and thus, in the name of love.

Still, somewhere in me, I felt— pity. Pity for this man whose hundred year of plotting and careful deceit to be torn down without being accomplished. It hurts, to know that no matter how hard you work, you would never be able to achieve the results you desire—it hit too close to home.

No.

I still hadn't been able to connect with my Zanpakuto and the number of times I tried dwindled: from once a week to once a month to none.

It probably had something to do with meeting Kenpachi Zaraki.

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I was frustrated with my height. Despite my honed instincts, someone always managed to snag my collar and lift me off my feet. A few bastards from the 11th Division had saw fit to do so after witnessing Ichimaru doing the same to get my attention or to bring me to eye-level to intimidate me.

Usually, I could squirm away or deliver a vicious uppercut.

I did the latter this time, when I was raised from the ground again.

But instead of the usual yowl of pain and an immediate release, I still found myself captive. And not to mention, my toe was hurting badly. I felt as if I'd kicked a five-feet thick boulder.

Wincing, I raised my eyes to see who had reacted differently. If it had been Ichimaru, he would've dodged, I would've kicked thin air instead of connecting with something.

Kenpachi Zaraki was not the person I was expecting. I felt my whole body tense up when I saw his scar-marred face, the black eye-patch and the bells jingling from the tips of his hair.

"Kenpachi-taicho..." I flushed the uncertainty out of my voice. "Can you please let me go?"

"Oi, chibi, I heard yer—" He spoke over my loud statement ("That's not my name—I'm Yin! Yin!"). "—don't know yer Zanpakuto's name either."

I stopped struggling, realizing with even more certainty that this was Kenpachi I was talking to. The only other seated officer who didn't know his Zanpakuto's name. "I... uh, yeah, that's me. 'S nice to meet you, Kenpachi-taicho."

"Chibi, fight me."

The furious rebuke about the nickname died in my throat when his words registered in my mind. "Huh? No!"

Kenpachi drew his sword and started hacking at me anyway. Most of my hits didn't inflict pain and after affirming that slashing him with my tanto wouldn't hurt him, I went all out but got my ass kicked anyhow— no surprises there. What I did not expect was for him to haul me up from the ground and placed his hand on my head, squeezing slightly in what seemed to be reassurance.

"Ya better get stronger than that, chibi." I stared. "How're ya goin' to show those retards ya can stand without knowing yer Zanpakuto's name? Ya don't actually need it, chibi, ya skills're there and ya just need to improve to be able to defeat me."

I blushed. "...Yeah!"

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He was actually awe-inspiring and I could definitely see why Ikkaku and Yumichika would follow him to the ends of the world and back. I was wondering if I could transfer to the 11th Division. In fact, I would've asked Ichimaru if he hadn't handed me a rather thick envelope.

"What's this?" I asked. I didn't think anyone would write to me since all my acquaintances were from Rukongai and they were mostly illiterate and I doubted anyone liked me enough. Hate mail was expected though. "Um, may I?"

Ichimaru grinned at me. "Sure." He rested his chin on his palm, staring at me.

It unnerved me slightly but I ignored him—which I learned was somewhat effective—and opened the envelope. I stared at the papers. "Is this money?"

"Wha' sorta life had ya live? Neva' seen it 'fore? 'Course it's money. Ya're workin' fer me so ya bound ta' git' money."

"Oh," I said, curious as I inspected the money. I had never seen money in Soul Society. "How much is all this?"

"60, 000 Kan."

That sounded like a lot. "Kan?" I repeated, curious about the foreign word.

"The currency in Seireitei, chibi, keep up." I gritted my teeth at the insulting nickname.

"I know," I snapped. "What do I do with it?"

Ichimaru drummed his fingers on the desk, squinting at me as if I was a particularly odd thing. "Ya... buy sumthin' wit' it? Go treat yerself, chibi. Buy wha' kids buy. Sweets, toys, nicer clothes... stuff."

I wasn't too comfortable with that idea. I stuffed it back in the envelope and thanked him before leaving for the day. The 3rd Division was a pretty laid-back group. We could finish work at six and unlike other Divisions, we could relax on weekends, whether you chose to come or not was up to you on Saturdays and Sundays.

I hadn't even exited the premise to go to downtown when someone snagged my collar and hauled me away.

"Hey!" I cried indignantly, scrambling for purchase. "What's your deal?" I snarled, unfamiliar with this person's reiatsu. I twisted and delivered a reflexive uppercut. He blocked, but he turned me to face him anyway. He seemed familiar, one of the 3rd Division's seated officers and my superior. Um, I think he was the fourth or third seat.

My hand twitched to my tanto.

He glared at me, I looked past him and saw two others. One of whom I was absolutely certain was a fifth seat. I kicked my feet in air, wondering how to deal with this situation. That was when I saw what he was holding.

"Hey! That's my pay!"

"There's 60, 000 Kan altogether, Ryuu," said the fifth seat who had counted the money.

"Alright kid, spill it, what's your relationship with our captain?" the guy who'd snagged my collar demanded, arms crossed. They had cornered me into a dead end, I had nowhere to run.

"He's... uh, my captain?" I didn't know how this was relevant. "What about it?"

"The three of us are higher-ranked than you and our pay isn't even this much—"

"You've been eavesdropping," I grumbled. "Why ask me? Go ask him. I'm not the captain." I squirmed, "Lemme go!"

"Shit, he's annoying. I feel like drowning him." I snapped. I grabbed the hand holding me up and twisted, digging my nails into his skin and scratching. He hissed, grip loosening and I squirmed out of it, dropping into a crouch. I kicked his shins, his knees buckled as a result. I jumped, stomped on his head for good measure before flash-stepping out of there.

Bitterness clouded my features.

I was still the youngest member of the Shinigami, I didn't even have a Shikai and I had a seat and a higher pay than higher-seated officers. Of course no one was going to be happy about this.

I couldn't exactly understand why Ichimaru-taicho was doing this: painting a huger target onto my back. But damn that asshole.

I still have to prove myself.

I darted to the training grounds. I'll show them, definitely— they'd regret ever making fun of me.

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* * *

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Updated: 15/9/2014

Status: Unbeta'ed

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**Question**: Do you want to see romance in this story?

.

Review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Tite Kubo © Bleach**

* * *

**Silver Thread**

**Chapter 5**

by GaleSynch

* * *

When I said I wanted to meet another Bleach character. This was not how I planned for it to go. I met the captain's turquoise eyes head-on, his white eyebrow was twitching spasmodically.

"Hey," his voice came out as low, rumbling grow. "Do you know why you're here, Ichimaru?"

"Er, it's Ichiru."

A vein popped. "Answer me!" In case I pretended to not know what was going on, Hitsugaya-taicho jabbed his thumb at his window. Well, what _was_ his window anyway. "I saw a silver-haired boy throwing my seated officer through the window!"

"Eh..." I scratched my cheek nervously. "Looks a lot like me, doesn't he?"

"Every inch of him is you, moron!"

I scowled. "Is there a need for the insults? I can't see how you earn your subordinates' favor with this sort of attitude..." I commented distastefully.

"How I earn their respect is not your business—"

"Must be hard," I cut in loudly, "since you don't look like much."

"Ichiru Yin! Stop trying to change the subject!"

Damn. He noticed. Judging from how red his face was, his anger had reached its limits. Before he could blow up, the door to his office flew open. "Taicho!" sang a feminine voice. It had a whiny quality to it and where I was expecting to see a child, a voluptuously figured woman came sauntering in. She grinned when she saw her captain but it slid off completely when she saw me. "Gin... did you shrink?"

"I'm Yin," I pointed out. Before I could use this as a distraction to escape, she squealed and picked me up. I evaded her easily as she was not as quick as Gin or Kenpachi. I jumped to the side, frowning at her. "Please don't."

"But you're so CUTE!" She spread her arms. "Come here, you." From the corner of my eyes, Hitsugaya sighed, rubbing his forehead to stall the headache. I grimaced. Getting squished by her boobs? I glanced at her breasts— "You don't have to be shy," she added with a sly wink.

"Of what?" I defended, feeling embarrassed at having been staring at her quite blatantly. So far, Yin had not exhibited any sexual preference. He was stuck with old guys and the only lady he'd ever had in his life was his mother. Yin never really thought about it anyway. Yin was smart and intuitive but he had absolutely no clue where babies came from (his mother told him the white storks brought them and he totally believed it). I crossed my arms defensively. "Those breasts of yours look like a blown-up balloon. It's hard to think you have any sexual appeal."

Hitsugaya snorted, hand flying up to cover his mouth as he slid around his table to his seat. His previous anger at me seemed to have been forgotten.

Matsumoto's face slipped from a sly smirk to a very menacing, clenched grin. "What _did_ you say?"

The thing about me: I lost my brain-to-mouth filter frequently when I was embarrassed; often, I would try to embarrass the other to draw away the humiliation on me. So I kept talking: "Anyway, you're old. I'm, like, twelve—that's cradle robbing and—"

This was too much for both Captain and Lieutenant; Hitsugaya ducked out of sight under the pretense of picking up a fallen paper, but the snorts that rattled the table was too telling; Matsumoto lunged, a snarl on her face. "You cheeky little—"

I jumped away, feeling like laughing, landing on the sofa and I scrambled away. "You're just like your da—" For the second time, the office door flew open. The door banged loudly against the wall, cutting off whatever Matsumoto wanted to say.

"Yin-tan!" chirped that annoying voice that seemed to be everywhere these days.

Annoyed now, I peered over the sofa. "Oh, it's you. What're _you_ doing here?" I came here all the way just to avoid him. I rolled onto floor as Matsumoto made another wild grab and Hitsugaya finally climbed back into his seat, looking dignified.

"Why dun' we 'ave breakfast t'gether?" Ichimaru-taicho suggested with a smile and tone that said this was not a suggestion. "Ran-chan, ya can come too." Then as an afterthought, he said, "Shiro-chan, too!" Hitsugaya scowled and declined quickly, trying to be polite when he was irked at the same time.

"She's got a load of paperwork to finish though," I pointed out, nodding at the pile of papers under the tea-table.

"Too bad, 'hen," said Gin, grabbing my shoulder—at a speed much quicker than Matsumoto—and hauling off the ground before I could react. "Well, maybe next 'ime." We exited the office, I kept my head down as he held me much like a football player would carry his ball.

I'd given up asking him to let me down: he never listened. "I don't want breakfast," I said instead. "I've already had breakfast."

"Oh, what did you eat?"

"...I drank milk."

"No wonder ya're so thin—all skins and bones—see?" Ichimaru shifted me, holding me under my armpits and lifting me up higher.

I let out a strangled yell, feeling my cheeks heat up. "Let me go! What sort of torture is this?!"

Ichimaru lowered me down onto the ground when every member of the 10th Division was looking. I kicked his shin but it proved futile. I growled. This wasn't fair. What did I have to do to gain Kenpachi's inhuman strength? Ichimaru was dragging me out of the division building and down the path that diverged to the city where Souls swelled.

I was actually surprised that they existed. In the anime, I'd watched as Seireitei get trashed so often I was sure that the citizens were long gone by then. These were a tough bunch, I thought to myself, but then again, they had yet to experience traumatizing events that took place mostly in filler episodes.

"Ah, here we are," said Ichimaru. I looked up from where I had been eyeing the toy store. There were surprisingly many kids around. "'S my fav place an'—"

"Ah, Ichimaru-san." An warm, male timbre spoke, drawing both our attentions. Ichimaru's grip on my shoulder slackened but I was too startled by the sight of the two men to say anything.

* * *

_Oh, dear, things're a lot more complicated._

Gin's fingers slackened on his son's shoulder, falling to grasp his son's hand instead. Yin seemed too distracted by the sight of Aizen and Tosen to object. Yin was quick to mask it but the look on his face when he saw Aizen did not bode well with Gin: suspicious fright.

Yin turned away, choosing to face Gin rather than the other two, and he looked mildly ill. Yin didn't even complain when he obviously caught sight of how Gin was holding his hand: like a concerned parent.

Flashing Tosen and Aizen a full-fledged grin, he waved them over. "Hey, Aizen-san, Tosen-san, lookin' good!"

"Good morning," greeted both men. Aizen eyed Gin's son curiously, his smile mirroring the look in his eyes. "Ichiru Yin, correct? I'm Aizen Sousuke. It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah," the boy mumbled. "'s nice to meet you."

They entered the restaurant and what could've been a peaceful morning went out the window. Nevertheless, Gin was curious about Yin as the other two men were. Yin looked severely uncomfortable with the attention that riveted to the group of four, drawn by the captains but since he was the only non-Captain around, they were quite curious as to who he was to be able to spend time with three Captains.

Yin looked as unhappy as some were jealous. Mostly about Aizen. Huh, if only they knew... Gin would've paid to see. Really.

To ease Yin's discomfort (which practically radiated around the room), Tosen requested a private booth that they settled in. "I don't feel like eating," Yin muttered, rubbing his right with the ball of his palm.

"But it'd be impolite ter let ya watch us eat."

"Then don't eat," snapped Yin waspishly. He rested his chin on his palm, glaring suspiciously at Aizen and Tosen even as they ordered. Yin snorted loudly when the blushing waitress left.

"Is something amusing you?" inquired Tosen nicely even though Yin didn't see the need to reciprocate.

"I just thought how she was blushing madly when she looked at Aizen-taicho funny," he answered with no hesitation. He turned slightly to stare into Tosen's covered eyes. "Not that you'd know," he added snidely.

Gin snickered while Aizen was quick to admonish Yin, keeping up that warm, paternal air. He wondered if Yin could see through Aizen. Gin had lied to Yin a couple of times (mostly trivial things about misplacing paperwork when he'd burned it and the reason why he was late) and Yin had called him out on it countless times. To be fair, Gin was a very suspicious person and Yin could've been biased by what everyone was saying about him.

Aizen, however, had naught but people singing his praises.

"Aizen-taicho?" said Yin, surprising Gin. Not that Yin was shy, his son just didn't seem the type to initiate conversation unless absolutely necessary.

Aizen's glasses flashed as he leaned forward, smiling. "Yes?"

"Are you..." Here, Yin paused as he searched for the proper word. "...in need of new glasses? Those look pretty old-fashioned." Gin was completely blown off course. He'd been expecting a different question to come out of his son's mouth, not this; Yin never struck Gin as the type to care about aesthetics. What was Yin playing at?

From how Aizen's brow arched and Tosen frowned deeply, they (or at least Tosen, Aizen might've found this amusing) evidently thought he was odd. After a short pause, Aizen answered, "I don't think so. As outdated you think it might be, I'm quite fond of this design. Why do you ask?"

"That depends on how you answer. What were you doing in my room?"

"Your room?" echoed Gin, his grin disappearing in his confusion. "Huh? Why would Aizen-taicho waste his time doin' tha'?"

"Not in the barracks. I meant before I became Shinigami, when I was in the Shin'o Academy. I felt his lingering reiatsu. It's similar."

Aizen's lips parted but that was when the waitress arrived with their food. Gin had ordered Yin the kiddie set: something that did not make Yin's mood take a turn upwards since the boy always insisted that Gin treat him as an adult and not some stupid five-year-old, quoting his son. Yin picked at his fries but eventually ate it.

"Well," spoke Aizen when Yin continue to stare at him with almost unblinking sky-blue eyes. Gin grinned; he really wanted to see how Aizen would worm out of this one. "I do not need a new prescription as you suggested. I did recall getting lost in the Academy one time. That particular day, my subordinate stepped on it when I took it off for a light nap." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, smiling till his eyes were slits: his eyelids hid the dark thoughts swirling behind those eyes. "I must've accidentally wandered into your room. I apologize if I spooked you though I don't recall a boy in the room."

"I wasn't there," Yin told Aizen with a roll of his eyes, as if this was painfully obvious. He twisted a lock of his silver hair. "My hair's bright, it would've been obvious even if everything's blurry to you." Almost as an afterthought, he said, "I don't like it," with the petulance only a child could muster.

Tosen commented about the weather—how bright it was even if he couldn't see. Gin answered and the conversation eventually turned to other topics.

Gin did not missed how Aizen and Yin barely removed their attention from one another.

Eventually, they finished their food with no arguments and no more snide comments from Yin. Gin was quite proud of the boy; by making it seem as if he cared about Aizen's aesthetics, he lured the man into admitting that he did not need to further amend his sight. Even though it was useless in the end as Aizen had an answer to everything, at least Yin knew how to be subtle and hide lie under pleasantries or seemingly meaningless comments.

"Well, 's been grand," said Gin, standing and leaving a couple of Kan on the table. Yin started to count them and examined each as if to make sure Gin was being honest and paying the proper price. Rolling his eyes beneath squinted eyelids, Gin seized his son by the collar and pulled him out of the booth. "We've gotta go. There're patrols ter be done—"

"Paperwork to finish," Yin butted in.

"—and justice to be served to crooks in the Rukongai." Gin flashed Tosen a cheeky grin, regardless or not whether it was seen.

Yin and Gin were a few blocks away when Yin broke the silence. "Aizen-taicho is such an odd man."

Gin smirked. "What makes ya think so?"

"Just a gut feeling," Yin answered, wholly unaware of the fact that Aizen had the same opinion of him as he did of the older man.

**:: :: ::**

* * *

**[A/N]:** Posted a new Harry Potter story, check it out if you're up to it. XD

**Updated:** 11th of October, 2014

**Status:** Unbeta'ed

**Question: **Any suggestion for Gin and Yin bonding moments? Help will be appreciated.

**Review!**


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